


The King's Tide

by yawnralphio



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Gen, Getting Together, Golden Age of Piracy AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29680581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yawnralphio/pseuds/yawnralphio
Summary: A captain, his ship, her crew, and a secret with the power to ruin it all.When his merchant transport vessel is boarded by the fearsome Captain Nash and the crew of theSpark, Eddie believes his time has come.Buck makes him an offer he can't refuse, and he finds himself tangled up in something much bigger than he planned for.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 45





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> The 118 pirates au nobody asked for is finally here! Tags will be updated as chapters are added, and this fic will update **weekly**.
> 
> Incredible shout-out to [Becky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nearly/pseuds/Nearly), who has been a life changer; I literally wouldn't have started writing this if it weren't for you. It would have stayed as that little snippet scene I came up with back in December, and never would have become this monstrosity. I love you, and thank you for being my number one fan <3
> 
> I also want to thank [Cameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity); while Becky has been the absolute best motivational speaker, this fic wouldn't work without you. I needed someone to make sure my feet stay on the ground and your blind reads have done exactly that. I love you, and thank you for putting up with all my vague bullshit <3
> 
> And as always, I never would have gotten into 911 or started writing again if it weren't for my darling [Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGold/pseuds/PinkGold). This one's for you, babe.

Several hundred feet from the shore, the  _ Spark _ sat low on the calm water. Her crew lie merrily on the beach, spread out from her in all directions like ripples in the water. Their laughter filled the evening sky with warmth.

Buck turned his back on all of it and let the dull thrum of their numerous conversations fade as he walked toward the cave looming ahead in the moonlight. Its entrance opened up like the maw of a wild beast, yawning its invitation. Dim light illuminated the cave from within, visible only as he crested the rise of the beach and continued past the threshold.

Their captive – a man named Diaz – sat hunched over his food by the small fire, shoveling the meal past his lips as though it might be his last. He paused to pluck a fishbone out of the mess in his mouth and froze when his dark eyes darted sideways. Juices from the fish and overripe fruit trickled down his chin, and he lowered the small plate in favor of studying Buck as he passed.

Buck ignored him, heading instead for the rocky outcropping to the rear of the cave.

It was there he found the unparalleled Captain Nash seated at a table. An oil lamp and a fist-sized rock held down two corners of his map, and the ledger laid in the center prevented the parchment from folding back on itself. The quartermaster leaned beside him, one hand resting on the table while they spoke in quiet undertones.

Buck hoisted himself up onto the ledge and linked his fingers together while he waited at the periphery. He knew better than to interrupt, and was content to delay following his orders a little longer.

At length, Bobby raised his head. The oil lamp magnified his shadow on the wall behind him, making his imposing profile even more magnificent. His eyes found Buck's in the low light and he gave a single nod. Chimney continued muttering. Whether it was to the captain or himself was unclear.

Buck returned the nod and spun on his heel. He hopped down, knees and soft sand cushioning the drop, and headed back the way he came.

The captive subtly tilted his head and his shoulders stiffened at Buck's approach from behind. Ropes bound his ankles and wrists together, forcing him into an awkward sitting position. His plate rested on the sand beside him, so clean he must have licked it.

"Diaz," Buck said, though announcing his presence was gratuitous at that point. He continued past the fire pit and stopped on the far side of dying flames. The extra distance quieted the whispers at the back of his head and afforded him a clear view of the man. "That is what they call you, right?"

Orange light flickered across the other man's face, highlighting his sharp angles and hard edges. There was nothing but fight in his eyes, which bored into Buck like he could set him on fire with his mind alone. The air between them grew thick with tension as they stared at each other.

"Not if they want me to respond," he said at last.

Buck dropped his chin in acknowledgment. "Is the food to your liking?"

Diaz glanced at the plate resting by his knee. "Rather uncommon, isn't it? Feeding a prisoner this well."

"Who says you're a prisoner?"

The captive scowled, raising his hands to emphasize the ropes binding them.

Buck's lips twitched and he tilted his head, trying to see what convinced Bobby to spare the man earlier that week. It couldn't have been his quiet insolence; the captain had little tolerance for such attitudes.

There was strength in the set of his shoulders and lean muscle packed onto his arms, but the fresh blisters on his hands screamed land dweller. Whatever put him on a merchant ship, it wasn't his expertise as a sailor.

The silence stretched on for several minutes. Buck was good at these kinds of games. He intentionally waited until the day was nearly over and his belly was full to begin.

Diaz sighed impatiently. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, his voice devoid of fear. What was left was a kind of bored resignation. Perhaps lesser men had failed before.

Buck cut a glance up toward Bobby because, against his counsel, their captain wanted this man to join them. He lowered his gaze again and shook his head. Even if he walked, there would be no bloodshed.

"Then why am I here?" Diaz asked through gritted teeth.

"Well, if you ask me, you were in the wrong place at the right time."

"I don't think that's how that saying goes."

Buck set one hand on the hilt of his cutlass and rubbed at the corner of his mouth with the other. The truth was that he didn't have the same kind of faith Bobby did in bringing stragglers into their midst. It was rare for him to question the captain's orders, and rarer still to have his concerns brushed aside. If they needed more numbers – which they didn't – there were better ways to recruit.

Some men were spectacular liars who signed on only to save their own skin. Men like that would sooner stab his crewmate in the back than save them. Ferreting out the bad apples was one of Buck's specialties. He just didn't know if this man was worth jeopardizing their whole operation.

He stopped that train of thought dead in its tracks and drew his dagger from its sheath. "Before I come over and cut you free, there's something very important I need you to understand."

"I'm listening." Diaz leaned into the circle of light, his lips pressed into a firm line. He sat coiled like a spring.

Buck could see it now. His clothes were worn thin at the seams, and hung loose in places they shouldn't have, giving him an almost hollow appearance. But there, nestled in the shadows on his skin, buried so deep it would never die, was a determination to survive. 

The weight of his attention settled heavily on Buck's shoulders. He would only get one shot at this.

"There are thirty-six people between us and that ship. You can't kill me, and you can't outrun them." He licked his lips and stepped around the fire, bringing them closer together. "This is your invitation to a life of freedom."

"A life taking other people's things doesn't sound like freedom to me." He bared his teeth on a snarl.

Buck tilted his head, recalculating his appeal in between slow footsteps. "A life where you never go hungry or thirsty again; where you are paid, and paid well; where your family is taken in by ours. One where you get to live, not just survive."

Diaz looked to the front of the cave, a deep crease appearing in his furrowed brow.

One last step, and Buck knelt next to him in the sand. When Diaz looked back at him, he knew he'd won, but the victory felt hollow. There was a catch that he couldn't see in the dark. A feeling of unease settled in his stomach, but he pushed it aside.

"I know on the surface it doesn't look like much, but we only take from those who have more than their fair share. You'll never find a better crew than ours, or a faster ship." He took hold of the thick ropes binding his ankles and sliced cleanly through them. The man didn't even flinch at the touch of cold steel.

After a moment, Diaz held out his wrists. "Why me?"

Buck shrugged one shoulder and cut through the rest of his bonds. He slid the dagger home and turned to tend to the dying fire. Once the coals were stirred back to life, he sat down and propped his elbows on his knees. "Cap has his reasons. No one really knows how he picks us. It definitely wasn't your sailing expertise."

Diaz folded his legs in front of him and rubbed at his wrists. "What makes you say that?"

"Those blisters you've got will turn into these if you've been at sea long enough." Buck turned his palm and ran a finger across the calluses at the base of his fingers.

Diaz fell silent as he digested the information. He mulled it over for a while, long enough for the fire to need stirring twice more. Buck was content to enjoy the quiet. It was best not to rush the process. Eventually, Diaz looked sideways at him.

"What happens if I say no?"

"We set sail tomorrow, leave you in Port Royal." There were plenty of ways to find work there, and plenty of crews to join, if sailing was truly his calling.

Diaz challenged him with raised eyebrows. "You really won't kill me?"

Buck eyed him from head to toe and shook his head. "Not unless you give me a reason to."

His dark eyes darted rapidly across Buck's face, searching for any hint of humor. He didn't find any.

"What if I say yes?"

Buck's lips twitched, and this time he allowed himself a small smile. He held the other man's gaze in the low light. "Then I have my work cut out for me."


	2. ii.

Eddie woke with a sharp inhale, startled from sleep by a dull thud near his head. He opened one eye, then the other, and blearily took in his surroundings. The sun hid beyond the edge of the world and cast an orange-pink glow on the horizon. Stars lingered in the deep blue skies above him. It wasn't even sunrise, and the world had a twilight hue to it.

A hulking form stepped into view, and he recognized Buck from last night. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was just as big as Eddie remembered. His eyes were wide and bright and impossibly blue even in the low morning light. Eddie wanted to hit him for being woken at such an ungodly hour.

"Time to get up," he said, offering a calloused hand.

Eddie squinted up the long line of his arm and ignored it. He rolled onto his back and blinked up at the stars instead, clinging stubbornly to the edge of sleep.

The giant leaned over him, blocking the spectacular view with his silhouette.

With one raised eyebrow, Eddie silently shook his head. To add further insult he put his arm over his eyes and settled in for another hour of sleep – ideally two. It was a late night.

His stomach lurched when the world's axis upended itself, and he opened his eyes to find the night sky replaced by cream-colored sand. Seashells were a poor replacement for stars, but he was more concerned by the shoulder digging sharply into his chest. He struggled to comprehend the sudden shift.

Buck swept him up off the ground like he weighed nothing and slung him over his shoulder. He hooked his arm around Eddie's knee and that same hand gripped Eddie's forearm as soon as his momentum slowed, locking him in place like a yoke over his broad shoulders. His other hand swung freely by his side.

Eddie squawked involuntarily, an undignified sound that drew a rumbling chuckle from his captor. "Put me down," he protested, struggling in vain against the hold. When that didn't have much of an effect, he looked ahead and groaned.

They weren't far from the waves lapping at the shore. Buck walked several paces into the surf and dumped him abruptly into the sea. The shock of cold water was enough to make him gasp as he went under and he choked on a mouthful of the briny water.

It took him a moment to get his bearings and he came up sputtering. He wiped the salt from his eyes just so he could level a glare at Buck's shit-eating grin. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, and seawater slicked down his hair and poured freely down his face.

He'd never felt more like a drowned rat than he did right now.

"What kind of pirate gets up at dawn?" Eddie growled, spitting the lingering seawater from his mouth. He shoved his hair back to stop it from dripping more into his eyes, and uselessly shook the residual water from his hand.

"We do," Buck said, shrugging as he folded his arms across his chest. A wide leather cuff circled each wrist and both sleeves were rolled neatly up to his shoulder, baring his well muscled arms to the elements. He was unaffected by the chill in the early morning air.

Yet another reason to hate him.

After the rude – and wet – awakening, Eddie shivered hard in the breeze coming off the tide. He gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering and leveled his gaze up the beach. A few dozen shapeless lumps took up half the beach in sight, all gathered about a handful of extinguished fires. He gestured at the sleeping bodies, unable to form words let alone speak through his anger.

The brute took a step toward him and ignored the waves breaking just below his knees. "No,  _ we _ do," he said, motioning between the two of them. "I'm responsible for your ability to pull your weight on that ship. Until I say you're ready, you spend every waking minute with me. Now let's go."

He wheeled about and Eddie's glare settled between his shoulder blades. The only thing stopping him from strangling the big man right then and there was his lack of a death wish.

Buck walked up to the bag and spear he sunk into the sand next to Eddie's sleeping form. It was shorter than any spear he'd ever seen and had a long, wide blade fixed to the end – a vicious looking thing with sharp points at the back end.

Eddie trudged up out of the water, stripping off his shirt as he went. The wind dragged across his wet skin and made every hair on his arm stand on end. He balled up the shirt in his frigid hands and wrung out as much water as he could, but it was a futile effort. The material was still wet, and it no longer held any warmth from his body.

He looked up at the sound of a low whistle. Buck stood with his hip jutted out to the side. He watched Eddie shiver in the wind with an unreadable expression. His eyes matched the heavy blue of the waves splashing at Eddie's heels, several shades darker than they were a few minutes ago.

Once he had Eddie's attention, he tossed him the burlap sack. Inside was a handful of rolled up shirts and a pair of trousers.

"It's all I could round up on short notice," he said, leaning on the spear with a bored expression. "We'll pick you up a few things next time we make port. This will have to do for now."

Eddie sniffed at his soaked clothes and nodded. Part of him wondered if his wake up call would have involved a swim if there weren't dry clothes waiting for him. A larger part of him didn't want to know the answer. The message was clear enough regardless; if Buck said hop, he was expected to ask how high.

Some things never changed.

Buck was barefoot, his pants rolled up to mid calf. Eddie's were soaked, and there weren't any spares in sight.

He leaned over to peel them off and turned them upside down, dumping out the water sloshing at his ankles. It was his own fault for wearing them to bed, but who could blame him when he had nothing else to his name? He walked up to the small pile of leftover wood, drove two pieces of kindling into the sand, and hung his boots to dry.

Turning his back on Buck, he pulled one of the new shirts over his head. It fit better than his old one but was longer in the torso. He changed his trousers right there in the open. The only other soul awake to care was Buck, and in that moment he didn't give a damn; he was cold and tired. If the pirate minded his bare ass, he could look the other way.

The last thing he pulled from the bag was a thin leather belt. He wrapped it around his waist and fastened it. Put together at last, he spun and pushed the damp hair off his forehead, making a mental note to take a dagger to it sooner or later.

Buck gave him a once-over and set off. Eddie took one last look at the horizon; the rising sun lightened the sky, scouring it of all but the brightest stars. He put his back to the view and followed the lone set of footprints out of camp.

The beachgrass grew closer and closer together the further they went, until there was more grass than sand. The grass gave way to trees and he followed a sandy path up into them. Eventually that dwindled too, leaving him in proper jungle.

Eddie watched his feet as they went, avoiding as much as he could of the dead twigs and leaves on the ground. He quietly wished he wore his boots after all, waterlogged or not.

The horizon fell out of sight as soon as they entered the treeline, but it wasn't long before the sun cleared it. High above their heads the branches swayed in the wind. The air below was stagnant; no breeze made it anywhere close to the floor of the jungle. His skin never dried completely. As soon as the seawater evaporated, the exertion of climbing the island made sweat bead down the center of his spine. At least he was warm.

Putting his body to work kept his mind from wandering too much. Under normal circumstances his thoughts would have drifted toward his family and the guilt he carried from being unable to provide for them. Instead, the quiet voice at the back of his head whispered about all the ways Buck could be leading him to his death, and there wasn't much room for anything else.

The path doubled back on itself in so many places it was hard to keep track of where they were or how far they went. If Buck was trying to get him lost, he was doing a damn good job of it. Occasionally the worn path followed a stream, and those were the places they stopped to rest whenever either of them needed a drink.

It was during one of these breaks Buck drew a strip of extra cloth and wrapped it around his forehead, fastening it with a knot at the base of his skull. His face and arms glistened with sweat. At least the bastard wasn't totally inhuman.

Up close and in proper daylight, the myriad of scars on his arms were more pronounced. Most were nothing more than faint white lines etched into his skin, while others were still soft and pink. One ran right through the black ink low on the outside of his bicep. The tattoo was unrecognizable from the wound. He stared at it, trying to reconstruct the image in his mind.

"It's a skull," Buck said, turning his arm inward to look at it himself. "Well, it was."

Eddie's face warmed at being caught. He wasn't exactly making eyes at the man, but Buck didn't appear to be bothered by it the way other men he knew would have been. He filed that information away for later. "How original," he said.

"Hey, I was young and stupid once," he said defensively, turning his half-cocked grin on Eddie.

"Once? What about the rest?" Eddie teased. He gestured to the two thin black lines circling Buck's forearm and another mark on his chest, just barely peeking out of his shirt.

"I was drunk?" Buck offered lamely.

Eddie coudldn't help laughing. He didn't plan on staying with the crew for long, but if he truly had to spend all his time with Buck, at least it wouldn't be completely miserable. A bit of the tightness in his chest eased at the thought. Buck may have looked like a muscle-bound bruiser, but that disarming sense of humor put him immediately at ease.

Buck led on, and they fell once more into silence.

The sense of security gained from the exchange faded as quickly as it came, chased away by a flicker of doubt at his place among their crew. In the darkness of cave, there wasn't much reason to think Buck was lying about sparing his life. Yet here they were, miles away from another living soul. He was unarmed and lost; if they wanted him to disappear without a trace, there wouldn't be a better opportunity to do it.

He was also hungry. Dinner was a distant memory, and every time he even looked at some of the sparse fruit growing around them, Buck would warn him against it. He was just beginning to consider making a break for it when he walked straight into Buck's outstretched arm.

Buck knelt and brushed aside the low leaves of a bush, exposing some disturbed earth. The dirt was torn up, like someone had been digging.

Were they out looking for fucking treasure on an island that probably saw a different crew every week? Buck stood and swept the immediate vicinity, giving no explanation to the unvoiced question.

Eddie opened his mouth, but the words died on his tongue when Buck cocked his head to the side. He met Eddie's eyes and tapped his ear.

For several heartbeats, all Eddie heard was birdsong and the leaves rustling overhead. But there was something underneath it. A snorting and snuffling in the distance, so faint he nearly missed it.

He whipped his head around to stare at Buck, who set off as soon as Eddie acknowledged the noise. Eddie had no choice but to follow, afraid of being left behind.

The sound grew louder on their approach. Buck pushed through the foliage until he came to a sudden stop at the edge of a creek that was more mud than water. Rolling in the mud not twenty feet from them was a massive wild boar. Its tusks were easily as long as Eddie's forearm and it was using them to dig through the opposite bank. Mud slicked down the fur on its sides and belly.

Eddie grabbed Buck's shoulder in alarm. He looked back with a thoroughly delighted expression. One glance at it eased all of Eddie's fears; his stomach twisted at the excitement shining in Buck's clear blue eyes.

Buck gently brushed him off and held up his hand, palm towards Eddie. He closed it into a fist and then sent two fingers out, pointing to their right. He started moving in that direction and missed the bewildered gesture Eddie made at his back.

The only clear instruction was for him to stay put, so he watched Buck disappear into the bushes a little ways downstream. Eddie looked around, keeping one wary eye on the wild animal rooting through the dirt. It was too close for comfort, but when he started to retreat he nearly lost his balance. The mud was too slick to move safely. He was afraid to try and make any noise that would alert the hog to his presence.

The jungle surrounding him grew quiet. Even the trees seemed to hold their breath, and an uncomfortable feeling settled on the back of his neck. Hot fear prickled down his spine and nausea threatened to turn his stomach. He was grateful now that Buck warned him not to eat any of the fruit.

In the quiet he turned to make sure the hog hadn't moved, only to find it staring straight at him. He flinched. The tiny movement was enough to make him lose his balance on the riverbed and down he went, landing on his ass just beyond the edge of the muddy bank. He swore colorfully on the way down, all but forgetting the danger just ahead of him.

He looked up again as soon as he remembered. The boar was already in motion and moved with surprising speed, considering its impressive girth.

Eddie sat frozen in place, his own heartbeat like thunder in his ears. He didn't have anything to defend himself with, and he couldn't outrun the damn thing. Where the hell was Buck?

The pig snorted and charged and all he could do was put his arms up in front of him and close his eyes. There were worse ways to die – burning alive sounded unpleasant, as did being flayed – but there were also better ones.

He sent up a silent prayer and braced for impact, but it never came. The hoofbeats ended with a thump, followed by a horrible squealing. It was cut short by a sickening squelch, and the jungle fell silent once more. He held his breath, half convinced he was still in danger.

Finally, he opened his eyes and took in the scene. Buck stood before him, his chest heaving and that same gleeful glint in his eye. Flecks of mud dotted his face and arms. He swiped his forearm across his chin and looked at the grime. In one smooth motion, he yanked the spear from between the boar's ribs and turned to face Eddie just as he found his voice.

"You could have fucking warned me," Eddie cried. He managed to get to his feet and stepped sideways to take a closer look at the boar. It was just a few feet away; if Buck had waited any longer to strike, it would have been upon him.

"I did," Buck said. He cast an indignant look at Eddie, nostrils flared.

Eddie looked up sharply. "When? You didn't even tell me what we were doing out here!"

Buck frowned and jammed the butt of his spear into the mud. "It was implied." His excitement faded fast in response to Eddie's outrage.

"So should I expect every hunt to begin with a bath?"

Buck pressed his lips together and drew a machete from the arsenal on his belt. He pointed it at the spear and spoke like he was talking to a child. "It's a boar spear." Without waiting for a response, he lumbered noisily into the brush, using the machete to clear a path for himself.

Delayed adrenaline coursed through Eddie and his hands shook from it. He curled them into fists. "Fucking pirates," he muttered, looking down at the boar with a pang of guilt followed closely by a wave of relief. If they did want to get rid of him, a boar would have been a neat way to tie up loose ends.

Buck returned shortly carrying a ten foot sapling. "Get the front," he said, and bent to tie the hog's hind feet to the pole. All the tension was gone as if the dispute never happened.

Eddie did as he was told and crouched down at the head. He got as far as looping rope around one of its legs before Buck clicked his tongue.

"No, not like that." Buck sidestepped and grabbed the rope from Eddie's hands to demonstrate. He looped the rope several times around the ankles and wrapped the free ends of the rope in between, forming a secure noose that he then fastened to the sapling. The whole process was over in fifteen seconds. He pulled it tight and looked up at Eddie expectantly.

"That's exactly what I was going to do," he said cheekily.

Buck stared at him, mouth agape. Eddie couldn't suppress his smirk any longer and Buck snorted as soon as it broke free.

"Very funny, wiseass. Your turn." He moved out of the way for Eddie to get the other end. It took him a few tries to get it right, and it was nowhere near as neat as Buck's. But it would hold, and that was what mattered. They hoisted the hog between them and Buck led the way back to the beach.

The return trip was much shorter, even carrying the extra weight. Eddie would have put the day at early afternoon based on how long they walked, but it was only mid morning when they emerged once more from the jungle.

As soon as they cleared the trees, two men appeared and relieved them of Buck's kill. The moment it was free of their shoulders, Buck turned his brilliant grin on Eddie. Something about the long morning obviously thrilled him. Whether it was tormenting Eddie, the hike, or the kill was unclear.

Eddie, however, was running on fumes. "Can we eat now?" he pleaded. Buck threw his head back and laughed. Something clicked and he smacked his knuckles against Buck's chest as he said, "Those fruit weren't rotten, were they?"

"Not even a little," Buck said, still laughing. "I just didn't want you to lose your breakfast while I was getting ready."

Eddie glared at him, but unlike their earlier bouts, there wasn't any heat behind it. Buck's laughter gained momentum and it was contagious. Eddie didn't have the energy to fight his own smile.

Another crewmate walked by while Buck regained control of himself. Sunlight glinted off the top of her shaved head. She called out to them as she passed. "Go clean up before you stink up the camp!"

Buck waved her off and his laughter finally subsided. "Come on," he said, jerking his head. He set off without waiting for Eddie, much in the same way he had all morning.

Eddie considered resisting, but his stomach won out. He jogged to catch up and fell into step beside Buck.


	3. iii.

Buck led them through camp, past the row of officers' tents, past the cave, past the enticing smells wafting gently inland. The sand all but seared the bottoms of their feet, sunbaked and scorched without the cover of the jungle. Not even the breeze coming off the water was enough, but soon they cleared the edge of the camp and a wide, lazy river greeted them.

One of the first lessons he ever learned on board the  _ Spark _ was to stay clean, especially during the healing process. He had Hen to thank for that particular habit, and between the two of them it eventually rubbed off on the rest of the ship. The  _ Spark _ was known for having one of the best smelling crews around – not that they smelled particularly  _ good _ . There was only so much to be done when spending days at sea, but hygiene made a difference when it played such a key role in ship maintenance.

He angled them toward the point in the river where freshwater mingled with the sea. During the hike back to camp most of the mud on their clothes dried up and flaked away, and all that was left was to wash off the rest. The mesh of scars on his leg took a bit of extra scrubbing, but everything else rinsed easily. He pulled the cloth buff from his head and dunked it so he could wring the cool water out over the back of his neck. The rivulets running down his spine helped fend off the heat. He repeated the process several times and finally tied the buff into place again once he was sufficiently cooled off.

Diaz went through the motions beside him. In no time it became clear his mind was miles away, despite standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the ankle deep current. Buck stole a glance out of the corner of his eye to find his brow creased, chewing on his bottom lip as he worked.

They worked in silence, but that didn't bother him. There weren't enough grunts who could stand the quiet for long without getting squirmy, and working alongside someone who could let it ride for once was nice. Diaz stuck to him like a second shadow all morning, already forcing Buck to reconsider his prior objections. Aside from the one, he took orders well. He also proved himself to be squirrelly and untrusting, not that Buck blamed him for the latter.

At the time, using him as bait had seemed like a good idea. And the aftermath showed Buck the man had a limit to what he was willing to take, which was perhaps the most important discovery of the morning. He caught himself wondering what kinds of thoughts plagued a man like Diaz. A temper like that was dangerous out on the water, where tensions ran high and taking it out on each other seemed like the best option. The crew was good, but not perfect, and the occasional fight still broke out among them if they spent too long in close quarters.

Buck wanted to see what that spark looked like when coaxed to a flame, but first he had to find ways to put it out. 

He nudged Diaz's arm when he was ready, and angled them toward the camp. The cook station pushed up against the wall of tents. A massive fire ring with interchangeable spits depending on what was being cooked sat in the center, bracketed by two tables made up of boards strung across stacked crates.

They made a beeline for it, and Buck secretly hoped there was something worthwhile waiting for them after a long morning.

Bobby stood behind one of the tables. Whenever he cooked he opted for an apron instead of his vest, and left his broad tricorne hat in his tent. He looked like a member of the crew when he dressed down. Buck clasped his forearm once they arrived, barely containing his grin as they greeted each other.

Two plates piled high with fish and fruit waited for them. The rest of the table was already cleared and ready for dinner preparations. Buck picked his up and turned in time to catch the crestfallen look on Diaz's face before he could hide it. "What, you thought that was breakfast?"

"I had hoped," Diaz grumbled. He ducked his chin and thanked Bobby anyways, much to their amusement.

Buck clapped a hand to his shoulder and sighed sympathetically. "Don't worry, we'll get another tonight. Cap prefers to catch and cure our own rather than paying for rations. It saves a little in the long run, plus it gives us down time ashore in between runs." He steered them out of the kitchen and took a bite of his mango.

The disgruntled look remained, even as Diaz inhaled his food. His mouth never quite emptied, and he was so focused on his plate Buck had to yank him out of the path of someone headed the other way.

"You can breathe in between bites," Buck told him, putting a sticky hand on his wrist to get his attention.

In a comical echo of last night, Diaz froze with a chunk of fish halfway to his mouth. It took everything in Buck not to laugh at him. They could build muscle over time and fill in the hollow spaces, but if he kept eating like someone was about to steal his plate from under him, he was going to make himself sick.

"No one is going to take it from you," Buck assured him, only half teasing.

A rosy tint colored Diaz's cheeks. He finished chewing slowly, with intention, and swallowed. "Habit," he said, not quite meeting Buck's eyes when he grinned. His next bite was smaller.

Buck nodded, still smirking. "Besides, the hog has to be hung and drained first. We'll have a feast our last night on the island."

"When is that exactly?"

"You in a hurry to get out of here?" Buck raised an eyebrow and gave him a onceover. It really relied on how quickly he could turn the man into a pirate. "Depends," he said with a shrug.

He stopped abruptly outside the first tent on the left and swept aside the flap hanging over the entrance for Diaz to enter first. The sand inside was kinder on the bottoms of their feet, protected from the heat of the sun by thick canvas, but the stale air was stifling.

Hen looked up from her work and smiled wide. The top of her head shined with sweat, but she always did like the heat.

A variety of potted plants lined the rear wall on shelves hanging from the tent supports. In front of them stood a table where Hen's satchel sat open, sporting a myriad of labeled glass jars with cork stoppers in them. More scattered across the table next to her.

She hastily finished scribbling on a piece of parchment and abandoned it to pull Buck into a hug. He returned it with a kiss to the smooth curve of her cheek.

"Sometimes I swear you  _ try _ to get dirty up there," she teased, giving him an appraising look as she drew back.

"It's fun rolling around in the mud. You'd know if you ever left camp." He grinned at her and put an arm around her shoulder, facing Diaz with the other held out in a presenting manner. "Hen, this is Diaz, Cap's newest lost cause."

"Welcome to the crew," she said, digging her elbow into Buck's side. He flinched away from her and she stepped forward with her hand outstretched.

"It's Eddie, actually," he said, taking it with a smile that softened some of the edges in his lean face. Buck's grin fell.

Hen rounded on him, smacking the backs of her knuckles against his chest. "You didn't ask?" She gave him a stern look with one disapproving eyebrow raised.

"I – we've been busy – you're gonna make such a good mom," Buck faltered, glancing from her to Diaz in confusion. His dark eyes danced with mischief as he took another bite, looking all too pleased with himself. Buck huffed and continued, " _ Eddie _ , Hen is our surgeon. If anyone goes down, you get them to her. If she goes down, you get her to me."

Eddie swallowed, eyebrows raised. "Are you a surgeon, too?"

"No, I–" Buck winced and looked to Hen for guidance. He saw their shared ghosts reflected in her warm eyes. She pressed her lips together in a sympathetic smile, which left him struggling with how to answer. "Not exactly," he said at last, kicking himself for not anticipating the question.

After a beat, Eddie accepted the vague answer with a nod.

Buck barreled on. "She's also the ship's first mate. If Cap or the Quartermaster's not around, we take orders from her. Understand?"

"Got it." Eddie nodded at Hen. She grinned brightly at him.

"Oh, he's quicker than you, Buckaroo." She leaned against the table and folded her arms like she was settling in for a show.

Buck's shoulders slumped. He pouted as he spun towards her, knowing full well she was only trying to get under his skin and that it was working. "Yeah, well, odds are if we're dead so is he."

"You know, it's amazing how much faith you have in your crew," Eddie said with a playful lilt to his voice.

Hen's eyebrows climbed higher. "I like him already," she cooed, setting a hand on Buck's arm to soothe the sting of their teasing. To Eddie she said, "The other ones fear him too much to give him shit. Hold on to that."

"They aren't afraid of me, they  _ like _ me," Buck groaned, already regretting their introduction. Overall it was a good sign; if Hen liked him, he might actually have a chance, and that knowledge only made him more determined to turn Eddie into a worthwhile sailor.

Hen snickered quietly and squeezed his arm, swiftly sobering as she redirected the conversation. "Hey, did you find any of that bark I asked for?"

"Yeah," Buck said, immediately unhooking one of the pouches at his hip and handing it over. Eddie looked at him quizzically, but said nothing.

Hen took the pouch and retrieved an empty jar to pour its contents into, then handed it back. "I still have some work to do. You should go parade him around camp a little more, let the old newbies know they're not the newbies anymore."

"Far as I'm concerned,  _ everyone's _ a newbie." Buck grinned anyway, and accepted their cue to leave. They circled back to the kitchen first to drop off their plates, and he plucked a blade of beach grass on the way to their next stop.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the mess crew, Eddie leaned in and lowered his voice. "Can she really do much? Dead is dead out there, isn't it?"

Buck froze with the grass raised halfway to his mouth. He whirled on Eddie and advanced, invading his personal space until he had no choice but to look Buck dead in the eyes. When he spoke it was soft, but full of ice.

"There is a difference between dead and dying. When death comes knocking for you, you better pray to whatever god is listening that she's by your side. She is the only person in this world who can keep that door shut. I know because she saved my life." He leaned in until they were so close, Eddie's eyes bounced back and forth between his. "There isn't room on that ship for your doubt. Either it stays here, or you do."

Eddie stared at him in stunned silence. He finally swallowed and ducked his chin. "Understood."

Buck nodded and glanced about for any bystanders. He found none and took a breath, patting Eddie's shoulder roughly as he stepped away. Sometimes hope made the only difference out there, and he wouldn't let this newcomer stand in the way of it.

He gave Eddie a beat to gather himself and continued on, bypassing Bobby's tent until they reached the last in the row. Just like Hen's, he pulled the flap aside and gestured for Eddie to enter first.

"Well… This is the Quartermaster's tent," Buck said. He rubbed at the back of his neck and frowned at the disarray. Crates and chests lined one side of the tent. The work table at the back was overloaded with odds and ends. The only thing missing was Chimney himself, and there was no telling how long he'd been gone. "He's usually here. If you need anything or find anything worth keeping, he's your man. Picky though, so choose wisely." The flap moved again, announcing the arrival of a third.

"I am not picky," Chimney said as he entered. He carried yet another crate in his arms, which he handed off to Buck without warning so he could wag a finger in his face. "Just because you lack taste and come to me with worthless trinkets does not make me picky."

Buck rolled his eyes and set the crate down next to the others. "In my defense, I'm usually a little more concerned with being stabbed, not bringing you gold and diamonds and rubies." He raised an eyebrow in challenge, but Chimney waved him off.

"Yeah, yeah. New guy?"

"Eddie," Buck supplied. He crossed over to the table and found the pile separated into valuables and junk. "He thanks you for the new clothes, by the way."

"Yes, thank you," Eddie added quickly, glancing from Buck – who leaned against the table to rummage through the goods, to Chimney – who watched it happen with a disapproving frown.

"Sorry I didn't have more for you, we're a little low on supplies right now. Stay out of those," Chimney said, the last directed at Buck. He retrieved a leatherbound book from a locked chest in the corner and hauled the crate over to the table.

Buck ignored him and scanned the piles anyway, but didn't see anything interesting. He was about to turn away when a small wooden box tucked behind the larger of the two piles of plunder caught his eye. He plucked it from the table before Chimney stopped him and opened it to reveal a small, cracked mirror affixed to the inside of the lid. The inner chamber was lined with faded red velvet. He turned it toward Chimney.

"Why are you keeping this?"

"So, Eddie, have you been sailing long?" Chimney asked, snatching the box from Buck's hands. He snapped the lid shut and Buck narrowed his eyes as he tried to hide it behind his back.

"About a week," Eddie said, oblivious to their silent but intense game.

The secretive glint in Chimney's eyes vanished instantly. He looked disbelievingly from Eddie to Buck, the jewelry box all but forgotten. "Cap know?"

"This was Cap's idea. I'm following orders." Buck folded his arms and tilted his head, still eyeing the box. It was old, with a long faded design painted along the seam. A little polish would maybe revive the wood itself, but the box was worthless compared to the rest of the take.

"Like you've never challenged orders," Chimney scoffed. He set the box aside and faced Buck with his hands planted on his hips.

Buck pressed his lips together, bristling at the thinly veiled assertion that he'd simply let the situation unfold. "I said my piece. Cap doubled down."

Not only did Bobby double down on the order, he refused to even listen to Buck's concerns. He hated it then, and he hated being questioned about it now. It was one thing to cast doubt on a command; it was another to outright disobey a direct order.

Chimney carried on, ignoring Buck's irritation. "And what happens when his inexperience gets one of us killed?"

"He  _ is _ one of us," Buck growled, drowning out Eddie's disgruntled, "I'm right here." He silenced Eddie with a look but otherwise neither officer acknowledged him. He straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders, doing his best to stand his ground respectfully. Chimney's doubts were understandable – hell, he'd gone through a similar conversation with Bobby – but whether they liked it or not, Eddie was a part of their crew now. It was Buck's job to keep the peace, even if that meant siding against one of his oldest friends.

The tension thickened until Chimney finally let out his breath. "Okay," he said, putting his hands up in surrender. Buck relaxed against the table again, but didn't lower his guard just yet. "Well, now that I've seen him up close, I may have more stuff that'll fit."

Buck glanced at Eddie while Chimney busied himself in a trunk. There it was again, that flicker of anger he tried and failed to hide. It was telegraphed in the firm press of his lips, his clenched jaw, the tension building in his shoulders while he stared unseeing at the ground. As if on cue, he raised his furious gaze and met Buck's stare.

The intensity of it stole the breath from his lungs. He couldn't look away. Eddie didn't either, not until Chimney dumped a heap of linens into his arms.

It took Eddie a moment to recover, but he blinked and accepted the bundle of clothing. "This is more than I–"

"Trust me, you'll want all the extras you can get once we're out on the water." Chimney said with a forced smile, willfully moving past the uncomfortable silence in the tent.

"Thanks," Eddie said uneasily. He shifted everything to one side and moved to shake Chimney's hand, but Chimney handed him an extra pair of boots instead.

"Welcome to the crew, swab!"

Buck rolled his eyes and held up the jewelry box once more. "What were you saying about worthless trinkets?"

Chimney wrested it from him with a sneer and clutched it to his chest protectively. "I have work to do, so get out."

Buck held up his hands in surrender and sidestepped. "If that's for who I think it is, she'll love it."

"You think so?" Chimney asked hopefully.

Buck grinned, looking over his shoulder. "Yeah. She loves that old useless crap." He ducked out of the tent with a snort before Chimney threw something at him.

Eddie followed him out, snickering quietly. He fell into step next to Buck and spent the first several paces making sure he wasn't trailing anything behind them.

"We'll get you a blade, and maybe a pistol, in a day or two. Come on, let's drop that crap off."

Back at Eddie's fire pit, he stuffed his newest acquisitions into the bag along with the rest and eyed the shirt he'd laid out to dry. His old clothes were far more ill-fitting than the ones he had on. He chewed at his bottom lip and stared grimly at them.

"You don't have to keep them," Buck said quietly, before he could think better of it.

A wrinkle appeared in Eddie's brow. He stood rooted to the spot, torn by what Buck considered an easy decision.

"You don't. Out with the old and all that. Like I said – you're one of us now."

Eddie rubbed at the stubble on his cheek, shrugging, and it was then Buck spotted the smirk he was trying to hide. "Actually, I was just thinking it would be nice to have them if we're going up there again," he said, gesturing toward the jungle.

Buck tipped his head curiously, giving Eddie an appraising look. "Do you want to go again?" The slumped shoulders and dark circles under his eyes spoke to the fatigue already setting in, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. If they overdid it on the first day, it would set him back further than taking it easy would.

Eddie fidgeted under his scrutiny. "Well, are you going?"

"I go every time. But I can always take someone else with me." Someone who could keep up easier, but wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

"I'll go," Eddie said firmly. He drew his shoulders back and reminded Buck of his own words that morning. "You said every waking minute."

Buck laughed quietly and nodded. "Alright. Might as well get in some shut-eye while we have some down time, then. You look a bit dead on your feet, and hogs are sharper at dusk than they are at dawn."

Eddie nodded solemnly and stifled a yawn. He sat next to his things and moved the bag of clothes where he could use it as a pillow, squinting up at Buck. "What are you doing to do?"

"I am going to enjoy some solid ground while I've got it," Buck said wryly. He faced the sea and lowered himself to the sand a few feet away. It was easy to get lost in the push and pull of the tide on calmer days. Sometimes watching the waves rolling over and over helped to clear his mind, but today the sea churned fiercely, spurred on by a heavy wind coming off the swells further out. He leaned forward, looping his arms around his knees and stubbornly refusing to look away despite the unpleasant memories swimming to the surface.

He was so focused on his futile staring match, it took him several minutes to notice Eddie watching him.

"Do you like it better? Being on land?"

Buck's leg throbbed. "No," he said. It wasn't quite a lie. He tucked his chin to his shoulder to search Eddie's eyes instead of the sea for the answers he wouldn't find. Eddie waited. Finally Buck sighed and added, "It's complicated."

Eddie nodded, chewing on the non-answer with more thought than it deserve. He played his fingertips through the hot sand. "What kind of name is Chimney?" he asked after a beat.

The abrupt redirection made his mind go blank for a moment. Buck threw back his head and let out a sharp bark of laughter as the vice around his chest eased. He shifted back on his hands. "I'm afraid that story isn't mine to tell. You should ask him about it after a bottle of rum. Maybe two."

Eddie grinned, squinting in the bright sunlight. "Is it that bad?"

Buck sucked air in threw his teeth, meeting Eddie's gaze and glancing away as another laugh rolled out of him. He let his hands slide out until he was on his back and pulled the buff down over his eyes, still smiling to himself.

"It's that bad."


End file.
